Dragon Clan: Lu Mingfei Returns from the Black Myth

Chapter 75 Ronald Tang
"A dragon king walking in the human world..."

Chu Zihang murmured, thinking again of the god he met on the highway on a rainy night, the god named Odin who took away his father.

He still didn't know what Odin's true identity was. Some people said that he was a half-blood hero who led humans to rebel against the Black King Nidhogg, but Chu Zihang thought that this statement was completely nonsense.

He is a god who commands countless deadpools. Such a god is definitely not a human hero.

Is Odin also a dragon king walking on earth? Can Lu Mingfei compare to him?

Is it even possible that the power Lu Mingfei possesses now has surpassed that of the golden god riding an eight-legged horse and holding the Spear of Eternity?

In any case, with a being of Lu Mingfei's level as his and Caesar's teacher, Chu Zihang felt that the god named Odin didn't seem so high and mighty and difficult to defeat.

While Chu Zihang was thinking about these things, Caesar beside him had finished his call with the student union cadres. He put his phone back in his pocket, shrugged at Chu Zihang, and said:

"Leave the rest to them, let's go."

"it is good."

The two of them left Norton Hall side by side, both eager to go back and appreciate more of what Lu Mingfei had taught them today.

……

In the poor area of ​​Brooklyn, New York, a simple house stands quietly beside a narrow and busy street, as if it is a forgotten corner in the hustle and bustle of the city. The exterior of the house is mottled, and the traces of time have left deep marks on its surface.

As soon as I entered the door, the first thing that caught my eye was the dim light, which seemed unable to penetrate the thin curtains and could only barely illuminate the small space. The air was filled with an indescribable mixed smell, a mixture of dampness, mold, and the occasional aroma of food.

The layout of the room was compact and messy, and the furniture was simple and slightly old. A worn-out sofa occupied a corner of the living room, with a piece of cloth that had been washed so much that it turned white as a temporary cushion. Next to the sofa was a rickety coffee table, on which were placed several teacups of different sizes and a half-empty thermos.

Coming into the bedroom, I saw a single bed pressed against the wall. The sheets and quilt looked like they had not been changed for a long time. A Chinese landscape painting hung on the wall.

This house would appear to be just a simple shelter for a poor and destitute person...if it weren't for the several guns of various sizes arbitrarily placed on the bed, exuding a murderous aura.

Pistols, sawed-off shotguns, and assault rifles... Judging from the scratches on the surface of the guns, these are not decorations that have never been used.

Sitting at the simple table next to the single bed was a black-haired man with a very festive Chinese face, who was immersed in a StarCraft game on his laptop.

"Tsk!"

Unfortunately, the man named Ronald Tang lost to the opponent, so he angrily and skillfully pressed "Alt+F4" to close the game and closed the lid of his laptop.

Old Tang wiped the unshaved beard around his mouth, suddenly fell back on the creaking chair back, and stared at the ceiling of the room in a daze.

After a while, he looked around at the messy and shabby bedroom again, couldn't help but smile bitterly, and murmured in a self-deprecating manner:
"Alas... I stay at home, playing StarCraft, and occasionally taking on bounty missions to earn some extra money... This is the life I have."

Sometimes, Lao Tang would wonder what the meaning of his life was.

Being in a foreign country, he had never interacted with anyone except the high school boy he met online playing StarCraft with. Walking on the prosperous streets of the United States, caught up in the hustle and bustle of traffic, Old Tang had never integrated into this human society.

He felt that he was enveloped by an intense sense of loneliness, and sometimes he felt so overwhelmed that he couldn't breathe.

Only when he was playing StarCraft with that kid or carrying out bounty missions did Old Tang feel that he could breathe freely, as if he lived for these few moments.

Recently, that guy stopped playing StarCraft with him, his QQ profile picture was always gray, and his game account on the Battle.net client was always offline.

Many years ago, Don dropped out of high school because he couldn't fit in with his classmates. He didn't know if it was because of his race and appearance, or because of his personality. When he was an adult, his Latino parents who adopted him died one after another.

It seemed that everyone around him was moving away from him, and he was the only one who stayed where he was.

Old Tang, who had taken on many high-level bounty missions, was not poor, but he had to spend a lot of money on the purchase and maintenance of firearms and other equipment. He was unwilling to use the remaining money to tidy up and decorate the house, or to move to a more decent place.

No need. Perhaps this kind of house is worthy of his mundane life.

Old Tang stood up and stopped thinking about these boring questions. After stretching exaggeratedly, just as he was about to lie down on the bed for a nap, there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Ok?"

Old Tang raised his rough eyebrows in some confusion.

Are they collecting utility bills? Are they delivering couriers or mail?

In any case, as an experienced bounty hunter who has been roaming in the black area for many years, Old Tang still raised a bit of vigilance. He stuffed the pistol on the bed into his waist and hurried to the door where the knocking sound continued.

"Come on, come on!" Old Tang responded to the person knocking on the door in an irritated tone. When he arrived at the door, he opened it and said, "You are..."

After seeing the appearance of the person coming, Old Tang frowned.

Standing at the door was a tall man in a black tuxedo, a white bow tie, and a leather mask on his face.

This leather mask looks very strange. The mouth of the mask has a bird's beak-like structure, which looks grim and terrifying.

Old Tang didn't know that this thing was a special equipment for doctors in the Middle Ages. When they were seeing patients in plague areas, they would fill the bird's beak with spices to avoid being affected by corpse stench and viruses. It gradually became a symbol of doctors.

But Old Tang knew very well that this unidentified, masked man was no ordinary person, so he quickly took out the pistol from his waist, pointed it at the man and asked in a cold voice:
"Who are you? Why are you coming to my house?"

A man chuckled from under the mask. He ignored the gun that Old Tang raised to him and walked straight into the room, forcing Old Tang to step back. "Dear brother, don't be so wary of me."

"Brother? Who the hell is your brother!" The old Tang Dynasty man in black spat, "Who the hell are you? I'm warning you, in America I have the right to shoot you to death for trespassing!"

(End of this chapter)